


Aromatherapy

by Rose Emily (toomuchplor)



Category: Smallville
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-18
Updated: 2004-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomuchplor/pseuds/Rose%20Emily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex had been in Smallville for six months, four days, and seventeen hours when he woke up to discover that he couldn’t smell Smallville anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aromatherapy

Lex had been in Smallville for six months, four days, and seventeen hours when he woke up to discover that he couldn't smell Smallville anymore.

The first time he'd come to Smallville, it had been bad enough. The heavy smell of half-rotted corn and the oppressive sweetness of decaying sugars had made Lex feel like he was swimming in something boiled and mushy. But that had been nothing compared to stepping out of his Porsche in front of the LuthorCorp plant twelve years later and thoughtlessly taking a deep breath of annoyance. His mother had insisted, when a six year old Lex balked at the aroma of horse dung in Montana, that this was a fresh smell, a healthy smell -- but there was nothing fresh or healthy about the odour of chemically-altered crap. He had staggered through the day feeling vaguely ill, spent the next morning privately lamenting the discovery that even Smallville coffee tasted like poo, and as soon and as often as he could justify the trip, escaped to Metropolis to bask in the scentless sanctuary of his penthouse.

Today, a Saturday, it was warm in Smallville, and it was late morning, and it had rained the previous day. All those factors, combined with the usual output of the LuthorCorp fertilizer plant and the methane emissions from the local cattle population, inevitably made for the sort of aromatic day that tempted Lex to wear a hazmat suit and lock himself in his study, drinking tomato juice to neutralize the taste in his mouth and surrounding himself with the stinkiest orchids that money could buy.

But now, even leaning his head way out the window of his bedroom and drawing in great, heaving draughts of Smallville air, Lex discovered that Smallville had lost its smell for him.

He called Enrique. "I need you here now," he said simply, because Enrique was used to not getting an explanation and besides, Lex wasn't sure he could explain the situation without undue panic. Instead of pacing while he awaited his assistant, Lex took a steaming hot shower, hoping that he was just congested and couldn't tell, that the steam would clear out his sinuses and when he reentered his bedroom, the scent wafting from the window would knock him flat.

But all Lex could smell, when he hastily wrapped a towel around his hips and headed back towards the window, was the faint but familiar scent of his own soap and his bed linens. Enrique was waiting in a corner, clearly ready for anything.

"It stinks out today," Lex announced, breathing deeply as though he was transfixed with ecstatic horror by the odours assaulting his nose, like he was witness to some olfactory car accident.

Enrique inclined his head, ever polite. Lex wasn't satisfied. He wanted confirmation, not servile acquiescence.

"When I moved here, I could hardly eat for the first week," Lex continued, affecting great distaste. "It was that bad. Did it bother you?"

Enrique was only in Smallville some of the time, often being required to travel for Lex's purposes. "One grows accustomed," Enrique said.

Lex sniffed loudly again, desperately seeking a hint of the crap-laden miasma that had so horrified him not so long ago. "Not me," he lied brashly. "I'll never get used to waking up to this stench."

Enrique nodded again, but Lex couldn't tell if this was the indulgence of an employee or true agreement. Enrique was a dead loss.

Lex dropped his towel and dressed, pretending that he had requested Enrique's presence to help him choose an ensemble for the day. "I'm going to the Kents'," Lex said, making up his mind as he spoke. On a calm hot day like this, the stink of the Kents' cattle barn was usually enough to kill a canary. Maybe Lex couldn't smell the crap factory from here at the mansion, but there'd be no escaping it in Clark's loft. The Kent farm was directly downwind of the plant.

Except the only smell Lex noticed when he pulled up in the Kents' drive was the tantalizing drift of apple cinnamon that meant Martha Kent was baking, heat be damned.

"Lex, you're in time for Mom's pie," Clark said. The boy was having one of those rare days when he almost looked his age. Lex suspected it had something to do with his terrible haircut.

"It's stinky out today, isn't it?" Lex asked, leaving his sunglasses on so he could enjoy Clark's adolescent gangle at his leisure.

Clark rolled his eyes, putting down the obscure farm implement he had been using. They had had this conversation before. "Honestly, Lex, it's not that bad in Smallville. Most people get used to it sooner than this."

"They get used to it?" Lex repeated doubtfully, lifting his chin in a gesture of seeking cleaner air at a higher altitude. "Do you know what that means, Clark?"

"What does it mean, Lex?" asked Clark, breaking out the farm-fresh grin.

"If you can't smell something, it's because your own smell has become indistinguishable from the smell surrounding you. If you can't smell my father's crap factory, it's because you smell like a crap factory yourself." There may have been a slight edge of panic pushing into Lex's voice. He forced himself to remain calm, focusing his attention on the shell of Clark's ear, the way it glowed bright where the sun shone through it.

"You're really not very good at making friends, are you?" asked Clark in that almost-injured tone he affected when he was trying to hint that Lex was being an arrogant prick.

Lex blinked innocently several times before he remembered that he was still inscrutable behind sunglasses. "You also smell like good things," he offered blandly, by way of apology. Clark raised one eyebrow expectantly. "Like apples."

"That's the pie."

"Soap. And deodorant." This was a strangely intimate thing to discuss, Lex realized a bit too late, as Clark blushed and devoted himself to examining his boot. "Anyway, I probably won't have time to get used to it here. I'll be going back to Metropolis."

Clark's head snapped up, eyes wide. "You are? When?"

Lex was forced to qualify his statement. "I don't know when ... but my father won't leave me out here forever."

A slight lift of the head, a breath of relief. "I ... hope you don't go soon."

And, suddenly, Lex found that he didn't care anymore about the smell of Smallville, or lack thereof. Clark, bad haircut and all, was smiling shyly at him, a flicker of bright green behind sooty lashes. Lex barely managed to keep himself from repeating Clark's words back in shock. For months, he's had himself convinced that Clark was drawn to Lex's money, his toys, his cars, his freakishness, and Lex had been shamelessly willing to exploit the boy's curiosity in exchange for an ally amidst the weird pungency of Smallville. He'd spoken of friendship -- they both had -- but he'd never quite believed it, any more than he'd believed that one day, he'd lose the ability to detect the undertone of fertilizer in his morning coffee.

But taking another deep breath of air, Lex could still only smell apples and shampoo and the faintest whiff of labouring farmboy. One of his hands rose of its own volition and tugged off his sunglasses, and he found himself fighting back a disturbingly insistent and probably silly smile. The smile burst out, slipping past Lex's iron defenses, as he looked up to see Clark still watching him timidly. "Oh, I don't think my father's planning on calling me back to his side right away," Lex reassured the boy. "I might yet smell like a Smallvillian."

Clark's grin of relief washed over Lex like the spicy breath of cinnamon that had greeted his nose minutes earlier. "Tell you what," he said, slinging one arm over Lex's shoulders and guiding him towards the farmhouse. "When you start to smell like a crap factory, I'll let you know."


End file.
